from hell
by echo.lied
Summary: She appeared in his life without much fanfare, her presence not unsettling at all. Maybe he loved her right from the start, he couldn't say. But by the end of 100 days, she was his everything. "I hope our time together will be a Sweet Dream "


_I hope you don't worry,_

_Or become exhausted._

_Your sweet dream is,_

_Getting ready to accept-_

_the Nightmare._

* * *

_from hell_

'One hundred days?'

Perhaps it was only natural that no one could believe he would suddenly turn away from his computer, leave his office, and go on a hundred day leave. He was only a public servant; no high-up politician, general or war-scientist. However, he was rather well-known for working himself to the bone without apparently noticing the degradation of this health himself. Perhaps it had something to do with his father; the rumours weren't without their grain of truth, and recently there was hardly any ambiguity about the matter anyway.

'Why not?'

His tone was perhaps a little too indifferent or, if it wasn't that, it was something else which sounded so wrong in his voice, which was usually so professional. His companions were both employed at the same company as him and, as such, had a better understanding of his temperament than most. Their gazes held a slight scepticism at his response.

'More like _why_. I mean, I can understand that you deserve a break because you sure work hard enough, but it seems very … sudden,'

The redhead hid his frown by taking the opportunity to drink. He was, after all, at an expensive bar and, from experience, he had high expectations for the quality of the alcohol. He was never disappointed.

'Hmm?'

Again, there was little interest in his tone.

'Renji's right. It's just too abrupt,'

The auburn haired woman was a former girlfriend but even after separating, the dynamics of their relationship hadn't changed that much. She probably felt some sort of lingering responsibility towards him, and it was quite unclear whether that could be put entirely down to steadfast friendship.

'I'm not angry at anything,'

Their words made him think they were implying that something had happened to anger him. It wasn't true. He'd always liked work more than the environment and people around him. He was working for a distant goal, which seemed to get increasing far away. See, you can stare at the ocean and see the waves shifting endlessly. The horizon seems so distant and yet the sea stretches all the way. Ultimately though, that feeling of eternity, or infinity, is just an illusion. Even if it seems closer to forever than anything, it really is just an illusion. Is that illusion necessary? Do you have to continue believing in something like that? Well, with that kind of thinking, it was no real surprise that he'd suddenly decided to go on leave.

'Perhaps it would be better if you were,'

Orihime chided him gently, noting silently that he was drinking more than usual, and she shrugged slightly. His behaviour was obviously off and so, eventually, she just asked the obvious, as if that would make any difference at all.

'Do you even care?'

* * *

Sometimes morning can't arrive fast enough and other times stray beams of sunlight intrude into unconsciousness far too soon. He sat up, mildly surprised to find himself back in his apartment. It was a long way above the ground and this was only halfway up the building. The view was incredible though. Standing on the balcony, the City sprawled before you – all of the glittering buildings with their unique architecture, and the roads winding around them, seeming to lead up to the city hall, commonly referred to as the Clock Tower. That building was a masterpiece of architecture; the tower semi-transparent, allowing all of the cogs and gears to be seen, stretching a modest way into the sky, and the clock faces staring down upon the City. Summer was slowly beginning to show signs of fading away, and soon the leaves of the trees which filled every other available space would begin to burn with fiery colours. Autumn was probably the most beautiful season for the City.

'You're awake?'

At Orihime's voice, the reasonable part of his mind wondered if something had happened the night before, but the new-found detached part couldn't bringing itself to care. He didn't even bother replying, because she could clearly see that he _was_ obviously awake.

'Nothing happened,'

Apparently reading the thoughts he would otherwise have had, the woman shook her head. The fact that he hadn't asked made her think he was still acting oddly. It should have annoyed her, really.

'Here, look at this,'

She wandered over to the bed, extending her hand to show him the magazine she was holding. Since he didn't respond immediately, either negatively or positively, she continued.

'This is an advertisement for some company that has a 'house mate' program. Originally it was designed to match families up for arranged marriages but nowadays they just provide you someone of any description. Whether it's for housekeeping, companionship, or a no-strings-attached relationship – it doesn't really matter. For kids these days, it's an alternative to selling themselves,'

'You can be specific?'

She was more pleased than she'd expected when she managed to produce some response from him. Human curiosity really _was_ what she'd been relying on. If he hadn't said anything, then she would've said she'd already signed him up herself, but this made things easier.

'Of course,'

She smiled.

'Then they'd provide someone with an advanced knowledge of traditional culture, international finance, and fine cuisine. Strange eyes, 170cm tall and quite athletic?'

* * *

_4 days later_

'Good morning. I'm from Sweet Dream-,'

She stopped, wondering why she was receiving such a stare from a decidedly suspicious looking person. She was sure she'd gotten the address right.

'I'm sorry. Is this the house of Kurosaki Ichigo?'

While the disbelief didn't fade from his expression, at least he seemed to recognise the name.

'You're from the 'house mate' program?'

'That's right,'

In the silence, he wondered how the company had gotten so confused with his contract. This petite person was the opposite of 170 cm tall and of 'athletic'. The thing which matched the description was her eyes. They were a deep purple, quite unusual and all in all … she looked like a doll.

He turned and began dialling the company's number on his phone. He didn't really care, but this was an excuse to remove this foreign presence from his life. This was his holiday and he didn't really want someone intruding into it.

'Would you like me to make breakfast?'

He glanced over his shoulder. She was standing by the dining table, spoon in hand, and looking more than ready to head off to the kitchen. Since it appeared that she had tasted what he'd cooked himself, she obviously hadn't been satisfied with the flavour. It wasn't surprising, because he certainly was not the best of cooks.

'Do what you want,'

He went back to his phone conversation, deciding that something about the administration system at Sweet Dream was severely flawed. Did they process their paperwork manually or something?

* * *

She ended up staying. The spare room was now hers and she'd had a brief house tour. He'd changed the contract so that she'd be domestic help specifically. The meals she'd made had convinced him beyond doubt that she'd be useful while he was at home. He had a weakness for good food and, since he was on holidays, having someone to cook for him as opposed to getting deliveries for every meal was obviously better.

She was a very quiet person, although whether it was so she didn't bother him, or just because of her personality, he didn't know. She flitted about the house like a butterfly, cooking or just wandering. When she cooked, he'd sometimes hear her humming, and she almost always have a smile on her lips. Even when she was staring at nothing, completely pensive, she was smiling slightly. Her favourite place was the balcony. She'd stand there for hours or lean over the concrete railing so far that it looked like she'd fall any second. The view of the City, it seemed, captivated her more than anything.

In the time she'd been there so far, there was only one incident.

He'd been reading and had dozed off. When he opened his eyes, he'd seen her standing outside on the balcony rail. Her hair fluttered in the same breeze which blew through the wide open door and made the curtains billow inwards, sometimes obscuring her from view. She was barefoot, indoor slippers discarded by the door, and she waltzed back and forth on the relatively narrow surface with perfect grace. The sunlight made her glow, illuminating her figure in white light. And the wind was quite strong, making it seem like she'd be blown away in a flash. Every second which passed made it seem like she'd misplace her foot and go tumbling to the ground so very far below.  
He'd jumped up, shocked into complete consciousness, and rushed out onto the balcony. She'd turned slightly, seemingly surprised, and he'd yanked her off the rail, pulling her inside and closing the door. He'd been angrier than perhaps was warranted, and had made her promise that she'd never do anything like that again. She'd instantly said she wouldn't, but her distant expression had told him that she honestly couldn't fathom why not.

'Are you hungry?'

She was curled up on the lounge, paging through a novel.

'No,'

He was sitting in one of the black leather armchairs, the Modern curved design making one recline while seated in it. He looked across at her, thoughtful, thinking about the past.

'You know, I've never liked having other people around me,'

'Is my presence a bother?'

She seemed concerned.

'No. How do I explain it …' a pause, 'It's like you don't have any presence at all,'

She looked blank for a moment, slightly hurt, but then she smiled again.

'Ah, the somehow makes sense,'

'Are you sure you're okay? I was just kidding around. You're expression just now-,'

'Not at all. I'm perfectly fine,'

* * *

Orihime visited out of the blue. She got cross because her phone calls hadn't been reaching him; she was convinced he'd blocked her number. Actually, he had. Since the people at the apartment knew her, they let her in without question. So she ended up walking in one evening with no announcement at all. Naturally, she was very interested in Rukia, who was perfectly pleasant and polite, smiling as easily as ever. They'd talked about lots of things and Rukia seemed to be honestly enjoying herself.

Orihime had been slightly off put by her politeness, apparently. She'd told him about it when Rukia had left to get some refreshments. She thought Rukia was odd, with her perfect manners and completely accepting attitude. She ended up drinking and passing out, so she was carried to Rukia's bed. When he moved her, she'd mumbled that she still liked him and then she asked whether everything between them was completely finished. He'd just apologised quietly.

Rukia ended up sleeping in his bed in the end.

* * *

Orihime was gone in the morning. He didn't really mind, but figured he'd have to call her later since she'd probably come into his room to wake him up and seen Rukia. Rukia woke shortly after he did.

'I probably should've said this before. When I arrive at the contractor's house, I'm supposed to say this little phrase,' a pause, '_I hope our time together will be like a Sweet Dream_,'

She chuckled.

'Pretty haunting, right? But it's company's orders, so that's just how it is,'

Later on, when he called Orihime, she wasn't angry at all. Instead, she said to be careful since 'Rukia's a strange kid'.

* * *

_A While Later_

'Tell me your story,'

It wasn't an order, merely a sprout of curiosity. In any case, she still looked surprised. He elaborated a little, ruffling her hair absently. The fact that the black strands had lengthened served to show how long she'd been there.

'While you're here, under contract, I'll love you,'

She smiled, happily, and sat up a little straighter, preparing her thoughts.

'I'm from the Outside,'

He was astonished, even though he couldn't really understand the situation. In the City, they were never really informed or taught about the circumstances of those from the Outside. The Outside was a term used to refer to the area to the west of the City, separated by a river and connected by a bridge. It was, however, known to be slums, a complete contrast to the sparkling advancement of the City.

'That's where I grew up, mostly alone. I learned how to get by,' a smile, 'You know, there was a theatre there, in the West District. It was the only place you could find proper entertainment. People joined together to put on amateur productions there. I always watched, even though they always performed the same play,'

She pulled her blanket around her, making a soft cocoon.

'In the end though, things got difficult so I decided to cross the Bridge. It was the middle of the night and freezing cold above the water, but I walked the whole way and crossed into the City like a shadow in plain sight,' another smile, 'It was lucky, really, ending up at Sweet Dream. They took me in immediately because my face matched the popular appearance of the time,'

Peering out from her bundle of blankets, she chuckled.

'Want me to tell you a story? It's of a dream I've had for a long, long time. At the beginning, I was really scared but now … it's really the sweetest dream,'

Reaching across to where he was lying, she placed a delicate hand over his eyes.

'The trees look like they're on fire, the leaves so bright, and they sway in the wind. Afternoon sunlight reflects off the Clock Tower and everything seems like a moving picture. Then a blinding white light passes across the sky and strikes the Tower, and then … everything is swept away,'

He had to admit it. That as he stared at her smiling face, he was slightly disturbed.

* * *

_It's funny, you know, how you never fully appreciate what you have-_

_Until it's gone._

_You don't make the most of every second and then later-_

_All you have is regret._

* * *

'I'll be there tomorrow. Let's meet up tonight,'

He got a phone call from work. They needed him back to sort out a whole load of new problems. He was going to meet Orihime and she'd give him the run down on what had been happening while he was on leave. It seemed so unrealistic all of a sudden, the notion of leaving his apartment and going to work. He looked over to where Rukia was.

'I'll be going back to work again tomorrow,'

She glanced up at him and he continued.

'But you know what? It's already been 100 days,'

She just stared.

When he met Orihime, she mentioned how there was a lot of international tension lately, to the extent where there were rumours that another Neo-War would start. He said he wouldn't know, because he hadn't even watched the television once. She chided him soundly for his nonchalance, especially on a matter like that, and then asked about Rukia. He said he hadn't extended her contract or anything like that. Then he added that he doesn't really feel like going back to work at all.

She said she knew this would happen from the moment he'd announced he was taking a holiday.

Then she said again that Rukia's a strange kid.

* * *

He got ready for work, the once normal movements seeming foreign, and then walked towards to door, ready to leave. A sudden feather-light touch on his arm made him halt and turn to face Rukia. She smiled at him, violet eyes bright.

'I won't be here when you get back,' a little wave, 'Goodbye,'

Was it the end of her contract already? It was incredible how fast the time passed when it was just the two of them.

At work he was completely distracted. Everything was blurriness and noise. In the end he quit. He'd honestly thought that after a break, he'd be far more motivated to continue working. Instead it was the complete opposite. He left the office while everyone stared on in shock.

* * *

"_It's like you don't have any presence at all."_

"_Be careful. She's a strange kid."_

* * *

It was mid-afternoon when he arrived back at the apartment block. The trees all through the city seemed to burn. Their leaves vivid shades of orange, red, yellow and brown. As he entered his apartment, he glanced around and was surprised to see the pages of an open book flipping over in the wind. _The door is wide open_. He wondered if she forgot to close it before she left. Looking across the room, he thought he could see Rukia standing there on the balcony, illuminated by the sunlight, her black hair rippling in the breeze – ethereal.

Then the curtain billowed outwards and, when it settled again, she was gone like a phantom spirit.

He wondered where she'd go next, who might be her new contractor. Momentarily, he thought she might still be somewhere in the apartment, maybe the kitchen or the bedroom … then a sense of foreboding chilled his blood. Running out onto the balcony, his brown eyes fell on her form, lying still on the ground. Kneeling, he touched her arm. She was ice cold, her deep violet eyes closed and her lips tinged with blue.

_She was gone … like a phantom spirit._

He cried. He asked her where that 'sweet dream' she'd talked about has disappeared to. This is a nightmare. She was always otherworldly though. He could remember all those times when she'd been standing on the balcony, rimmed with light, and the curtains had blown out between them, obscuring her from sight. What imagery …

And her parting words, her goodbye. She wasn't leaving his house.

She was dying.

* * *

It's strange. He knows that all too well but can't bring himself to care. He can see her, talk to her, even when he was the one who found her dead. He sees her where she isn't. Where she shouldn't be.

That is, alive.

But the Rukia he sees now isn't the same. She's a twisted recollection, a fragment of who she truly was. Her skin is ice cold and bone white. Her black hair has taken on an ethereal blue sheen. Her once bright eyes are dull and dead. And she is always barefoot, garbed in a fluttering white dress.

The weather is beginning to cool these days. Autumn might soon give way to Winter. In the lounge, he wears a sweater and long pants and yet he can still feel the bite of cold. She, on the other hand, sits doll-like on the chair opposite, feet bare, but she doesn't feel a thing.

'_**I**__ fi__**r**_**s**_t be_cam_e att__**ac**__hed t__**o**__ this _ho_use __**becau**__se of my sweet, __**swee**__t dr__**e**__a_m.'

Her voice is distorted, broken, trembling.

'_**T**__he vi_**ew**_ from __**the b**__alc_on_y is the ex_**a**_ct _sa_me. I co__**uld**__ see i_t _a_ll_.' _a rasping breath, _'__**T**__h__**a**__t's _w_**hy**_ I_ lo__**ve**__d _yo_u.'_

He was slightly angered, although somewhere his mind told him he was talking to himself. Sitting alone in an empty room.

'You shouldn't wish for something like the end of the world,'

Her hollow eyes stare at him without emotion. She cannot comprehend why she cannot wish for that.

He thinks he's really become terribly strange, seeing this reflection of her. But even so, the fact that she used a past tense for 'loved' makes him think she loves him for himself now. He can't be sure. This is all an illusion right? Like the endlessness of the ocean, this is just an illusion. _"Is that illusion necessary? Do you have to continue believing in something like that?" _That's what he'd thought. And now, here he was clinging to an illusion harder than he had clung to anything before.

'_**F**__or__**ge**__t w_h_at I _**sai**_d t__**he**__n.'_

'I love you though, you're my solace,'

Why is it so easy to say that now?

* * *

A few days later, he stands on the balcony, watching the fiery trees swaying in the wind below, staring at the Tower as the afternoon sunlight glittered across it. Autumn really is lasting longer than usual this year, he thinks. Abruptly, all though the City, the wailing of sirens breaks the tranquil calm. He can hear Rukia moving behind him and he looks at the sky. Then he turns and pulls her into his arms, embracing her tightly. Her wide eyes stare unblinking as a blinding white light descends from the sky towards the Clock Tower. She quivers.

_No- Wait … Stop!_

The light strikes the Tower and, delayed by seconds which feel like years, a shockwave of energy sweeps outwards, making buildings fall to the ground like the Autumn leaves never will.  
The City is ceasing to exist.

In the noiseless silence, he hears a quiet voice. He thought she'd laugh happily –

But his shoulder was wet.

* * *

_She truly came from a hell on earth,_

_Then ethereal she flew into his life,_

_And slipped away just as faintly._

"_Goodbye~ sky, sunshine, rain-_

_Hello~ My Sweet Dream"_


End file.
